


Under A Blood Moon

by Morteamore



Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Behavior, Exhibitionism, F/M, Group Sex, Kinktober 2020, Orgy, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: Tyreen and Troy Calypso celebrate their first Bloody Harvest with the Children of the Vault and it quickly turns into a night of bloodshed and debauchery.
Relationships: Tyreen Calypso/Children of the Vault
Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950712
Kudos: 8





	Under A Blood Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober prompts: Bloodplay, orgy/group sex, and exhibitionism 
> 
> My Kinktober card can be found [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Eg43Xu4XgAASKUR?format=png&name=small)

Tyreen Calypso raised the knife in her hand and plunged it deep into the thick hide, mindful of where her fingers kept it held in place. She twisted her wrist, the handle turning as the sharp blade began to bite into the flesh. It wasn’t so hard to cut from there, the serrated edges seesawing as she followed the clearly marked lines. Troy had done an excellent job with the designs, making them spooky yet functional. She had to admit her brother’s artwork was typically of the chaotic variety, but he’d outdone himself this time.

This was their first Bloody Harvest with their found family, the Children of the Vault, and their costumes were almost complete. They would dress as grim reapers, though Tyreen, to be honest, didn’t really know what that meant. It was something Troy had seen in an old ECHO film. He’d excitedly relayed it to her, relenting how great their costumes would be, and that was good enough for her. Sure, she found her brother annoying sometimes, insufferable at others, but she admitted he occasionally had good ideas.

Like the live stream that would happen that night. Viewership was going to smash records once the six galaxies got a load of what they had planned. She’d plotted the night’s festivities with him down to the last detail, with a finale that would leave jaws hanging and individuals everywhere talking for _days_. It was going to make them the most famous people that had graced the galaxies with their presence. They were going to be bigger than even _Handsome Jack_ had ever been.

Finishing up her carving, Tyreen put the knife down and examined her handiwork. The pumpkin stared back at her, its elliptical eyes and sharp, wicked grin looking sinister. Under starlight, lit from within, it would be terrifying.

Good. Their followers would love it.

The _galaxies_ would love it.

There was the sound of footsteps padding into the kitchen, then of the fridge opening and closing. Beside Tyreen, Troy collapsed on to the couch with a beer in his flesh hand. He popped the tab with his mechanical fingers, slamming back a huge gulp.

“That looks pretty badass,” he said, nodding towards the pumpkin, hair falling into his eyes. “You did a good job following my lines.”

“Of course I did,” Tyreen said with a snort. She picked up the knife and poked at him playfully with the point. “Did you doubt me even for a minute?”

“Nah, you’re my sis. I figure you have to be at least half as good at me at things, ya know?”

“Wow. You are _such_ a dick.”

“Aw, come on. I’m not that bad.” Drinking down more beer, Troy set the can on the coffee table and nudged her. “So, you all ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as I can be. Fuck, I’m kinda nervous. What if we fuck something up and it all goes to shit? Do you have our costumes finished at least?”

“They’re all sewn up and ready to go. As for the festivities, relax.” Troy drew the last word out in a drawl, the look in his eyes hooded, smug. “We know how it’ll all go down. And you just watch. Whatever we’ve lost in followship lately, we’re gonna gain back tenfold.”

“I sure as hell hope so.”

Troy gave his sister a look. “You never seem to care about losing followers when you’re hungry.”

Letting out a sigh, Tyreen swept her white shock of hair back. “This is our _family_ , Troy. Without them, what are we even?”

“Hey, don’t talk like that. We’re hot shit even without the COV. Our _For Fan Eyes Only_ account is on fire. And ECHO Tube’s giving us our ten million subscriber plaque. I think that cinches that we’re playing with the big boys.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t really feel like it.”

“Course it doesn’t. It’s fucking surreal. But hey, we’re awesome, and our followers know it. Did you ever really doubt we’d make it?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Tyreen stood and stepped around the coffee table, careful not to bump her pumpkin creation. Her hands went to her hips, and she struck an akimbo pose. “I mean, sometimes it doesn’t feel enough, Troy. All these people following us, worshiping us. It’s just not satisfying the way I want it to be. I feel like I need…more.”

The expression on Troy’s face melted into a frown. His throat bobbed as he drank long from his beer, his gaze cast down to his bare feet when he lowered his head again. 

“What more could you possibly need, Ty?” The laugh that erupted from Troy was humorless. 

“I don’t know,” she answered, sounding exasperated. “Just more than this. More than what we have.” She paused, cocking her head. “Maybe to get laid.”

“Come on, did you have to tell _me_ that? Definitely on the TMI scale.”

“Whatever. I’m just so goddam dissatisfied with everything. It’s been making me feel all kinds of shitty.”

“Then I bet tomorrow night will be just what you need. After the festivities, you’ll be totally rejuvenated and everything.”

Tyreen’s arms relaxed at her sides. It looked like all the wind had been taken out of her sails, her body slumping in place. Sensitive to his sister’s moods, Troy sighed, rising from his seat. There was a look on his face that seemed determined, almost angry.

“Look, Bloody Harvest is a big deal,“ he told his sister. “It’s going to be a special night for everyone, and I’ve put a lot of effort into making sure it goes down without a hitch. The least you could do is put some effort into giving a shit about that.”

“Of course I give a shit,” she shot back at him. “I carved the pumpkins, didn’t I? I’m going to wear the costume. I care about it enough not to want to screw it all up!” She lowered her voice, her gaze smoldering when she looked at him. “I just don’t feel we’re putting enough of our efforts into being the gods we claim to be. Or—or, I don’t know.”

“I’m going back to my room,” Troy said with a note of finality. “You need to figure out whatever this is for yourself. Until then, let’s not let it get in the way of tomorrow, alright?”

Folding her arms over her chest, Tyreen said, “It won’t. We’re going to show them a hell of a night. One they’ll all remember for a very long time.”

Swiping up his beer, Troy pointed a metallic finger at her. “Now _that_ sounds more like the Tyreen I know. Catch you on the flip side.”

XXX

Elpis wasn’t full that night, but it was a brilliant blood red. It hung above the open arena, its light shining down to mingle with that which came off the enormous braziers peppering the area. The COV were gathered, so packed together that they were nearly trampling one another, their cheers and calls carrying up into the air to become nothing but cacophonous noise. They were gleeful, restless, some of them so raging with energy that they tussled with each other.

High up on a pedestal, centered in the middle of the arena, stood two figures in long, black robes. Their hoods obscured their features, swathed their faces in deep darkness, but their identities were hardly a mystery. One held a scythe in their hand, the curved blade sharp and gleaming, the other a sword as long as they were tall. To either side of them, statues in their likeness had been erected. Cast in stone and metal, they towered into the night sky.

The one with the scythe stepped forward. “Super fans!” Tyreen shouted into the crowd from beneath her hood. “Family. We are gathered here tonight for a _very_ special occasion.”

“And what a great night it is!” Troy interjected, throwing back his hood, his eyes ringed with kohl make-up, lines painted over his lips, giving him the appearance of a skull. The crowd roared, pumping their fists in the air. “Check out that blood moon.”

Tyreen saddled up to Troy, elbowing him in the side. “You’re stealing my thunder,” she hissed at him, pulling back her own hood. “And I can’t breathe in this thing. Next time get lighter materials.” 

The crowd roared again, stomping their feet, shouts of the twins’ names echoing. Troy just shrugged at his sister, but his lips twisted into a half-grin.

“Yes, the blood moon!” Tyreen said, leaving him to his own devices. “The perfect backdrop for the evening’s festivities. Welcome to the Children of the Vault’s first annual Bloody Harvest celebration!”

If the crowd was already riled up, their state was heightened into the stratosphere now. They leaped and stomped their feet, hooted and screamed, some on their knees in bows of deference, others clambering on top of each other to get a better view. 

“All of it livestreamed straight to the ECHOnet as we speak courtesy of yours truly,” Troy added, hefting his sword on to his shoulder. “Smile for the cameras.”

“Now, we ask you, our family, to help us in commencing with our celebration.” Tyreen swept hair out of her eyes with a toss of her head as she addressed the crowd, the tips of her painted lips coiling in a smile. “I ask you all, who will be the first to be harvested? Who will rise above all their brothers and sisters and offer themselves up to the twin gods?”

Hands shot into the air one after the other, until the entire arena was a mass of limbs wavering frantically. The noise was deafening. Some of the COV were attempting to make a human ladder, each scrambling over the next until they could almost reach the pedestal the twins stood upon. At last, one of them made it, the Psycho screeching in glee as they stepped foot on to the stone and clumsily made their way before Tyreen and Troy. 

It was meant to be symbolic, the ritual. Just a little blood spilled by each of the twins to appease the crowd and make the _sacrifice_ feel special. The pair of them stepped forward, Tyreen, with scythe poised, meant to go first. The Psycho had other plans, though. He surged towards her, ripping the scythe from her grasp by the handle.

“For the Twin Gods!” he shouted.

The blade was hooked against one side of his throat. Both Tyreen and Troy knew exactly what would happen before it did, but neither moved to stop it. The scythe dragged along the soft, pliable flesh of the Psycho’s neck as if in slow motion, the lips of the wound parting wide, spilling out blood in a warm, arterial spray. The twins were doused in it, the blood splattering their robes, soaking into the material; splattering their faces and their hair, painting the stone at their feet in crimson. The Psycho crumpled like a marionette who’d had its strings cut. The twins were left staring, Troy blinking owlishly, Tyreen’s eyes wide, her breathing rapid.

“What the fuck?” Troy said in a hushed tone, voice strained. “Why’d you let him do that?” 

Instead of answering her brother, Tyreen was taking off her robe, letting it drop to the floor. Beneath it, she wore an enticing ensemble. Black fishnet stockings, cut-off shorts, and a white halter top.

“What are you doing?” Troy asked. “This wasn’t what we planned.”

Face streaked in blood over her make-up, hair matted with it, Tyreen spread her arms out.

“Who will be next for the harvest?” she shouted, her voice like a crack of thunder. “Who will sacrifice themselves in the name of the twin gods?”

“Ty, what the fuck are you doing?” her brother demanded. 

“This is it, Troy,” she said without turning to him. “This is what I dreamed of. _This_ is the thing I’ve been wanting.”

“For our followers to _die_ pointlessly? You were the one lamenting about how you were so worried about losing them last night. Now you want to kill them without even feeding?”

“They _want_ to die. For _us_. I get it now. It’s so invigorating.”

“Have you gone totally batshit?” 

The next Psycho was making her way up on to the platform. She fell to her knees before Tyreen, baring her neck. 

“Take me, my God-Queen!” she screeched. 

The scythe was raised by Tyreen’s hand. Her smile was all teeth, like a shark’s predatory grin, the blood shining on her face making her look demonic. Swiftly, she brought the blade across the woman’s throat, the blood spray making a magnificent arch. Tyreen let out a sound of pure pleasure as it splashed against her, coating her skin, staining her clothing. She closed her eyes, licking the excess from her lips. Before her, the Psycho’s body slumped, tumbling on top of the first one.

Beside Tyreen, Troy was looking increasingly uncomfortable. But even as the next Psycho approached his sister, he didn’t move to stop her, knowing this was live, that any spats and disagreements they had on camera could ruin the image they’d made for themselves. She’d never let him live that down, nor did he want to destroy everything they had worked so hard for. Wiping blood from his face, smearing some of his makeup, he could only watch as she dispatched another of their followers. By now, she was completely soaked through with their blood, and she looked to be absolutely reveling in it.

“Bloody Harvest!” the crowd chanted in unison, the swell of their voices probably able to be heard for miles. “The Twin Gods shall have our blood!”

In her bloodlust, Tyreen licked at her fingers, swiping the excess sanguine liquid away with her tongue. Troy pulled a face, looking away and trying not to retch; not because he was revolted by the blood, but because the way his sister was acting was unsettling. He could watch no longer. Turning his back on her, he made to descend the pedestal.

“I’m going to go check on the feeds, see if the cameras are running smoothly,” he told her.

The expression on Tyreen’s face was one of a dreamer who was upright and mobile, but who hadn’t yet awakened. In those moments, she was like the cat that had gotten the cream. 

“That’s probably for the best,” she told him. “I don’t want you around when my clothes start coming off.”

Troy’s nose wrinkled. He made a disgusted sound and shook his head. “On second thought, forget the feeds. I’m going to my room and staying there for the rest of the night.”

In a whirl of his dark robe, Troy was gone, leaving Tyreen standing there alone. That didn’t seem to deter her. She looked down upon the gathered masses, her siren tattoos slightly aglow. Her hands roamed her body, trailing downward in an enticing display, the blood smeared in their wake.

“Now that we’ve had our little mini harvest,” she said, her voice projecting, “it’s time to give the viewers what they really came to see.”

Her footsteps carried her down the pedestal, the crowd parting for her as she stepped into the thick of it. As she walked, she worked off her clothing, making a slow display of it. First was her top, the garment discarded to reveal a black laced bra underneath. When she stepped out of her shorts, it was evident she was wearing matching underwear. Her followers reached out for her as she passed them, caressed her, their palms heavy and warm on her thighs, her flanks, her breasts as they smeared blood into her skin. Never had she let them touch her like this, so freely and intimately. It seemed she would keep her undergarments on at first, but as she continued to stride forward, the bra was casually stripped off. She held her head high, streaked in blood, a savage grin on her face. A screaming Psycho caught the garment when she tossed it at the crowd, waving it above himself like a severed head. Others pounced on him, desperate to snatch away his coveted prize. 

Tyreen’s eyes scanned the mass of bodies once she was fully surrounded. She seemed to be considering something. Then she zeroed in on one particularly bandit, a tall, muscular specimen who looked like he could crush her in a single fist. Her finger shot out, crooking at him in a come hither motion. He pointed at himself in disbelief. When she nodded, he lumbered over, his gait almost shy.

“And what’s your name?” Tyreen asked, pressing herself flush against him, streaking him in blood. Her arms encircled his waist, not quite reaching around, as she looked up at him. She only came to about the height of his abs, her breasts squashed up against them.

“Meat Skimmer,” came the muffled voice from beneath the man’s intricate mask.

“Oh, that’s an original one.” Drawing back just a bit, one of Tyreen’s hands came to rest on the bandit’s belt buckle. “So, Meat—can I call you that?—what do you say to you and I getting this orgy started?”

“O—orgy, my God-Queen?”

“Yes, an orgy.” She began to undo the buckle, the clink of the metal loud among the hush that had come over the crowd. “We can’t have a perfect Bloody Harvest without one.”

“Of course.”

With the belt out of the way, Tyreen was able to draw down the bandit’s zipper. It was clear the man wore no underwear. With a hum of approval, the God-Queen reached into the gap of his pants, wrapping her hand around the thick cock inside. She drew it out, impressed by its girth. Her fingers danced along the length, then ran along the underside, feeling it thrum in her hand as she left bloody fingerprints behind. 

“Someone’s eager,” she remarked. Her fingers closed on the shaft, making a fist. Slowly she slid it down till she came to the root, her hand dipping through the gap in his pants to caress his balls. The bandit’s breath hitched. “Well, what are you waiting for? Pick me up.”

“As you wish.” 

Massive arms came down to enclose Tyreen’s petite form in their embrace. She was all but ensconced in them, like a bug caught in intertwined fingers. She wriggled out of her underwear as she was made airborne, kicking them off so that they draped across Meat Skimmer’s mask. They seemed to cling to the hard, durable material for a moment before falling away. It gave Tyreen a snicker, and she reached out for his form, clinging to his broad, bare shoulders, her legs wrapping around him. The laughter became a purr of satisfaction as her ass settled against his hardened length, his body almost as stained with blood as her’s was now. 

“I think I’m going to enjoy this,” she remarked for their ears only, and looked between them. One of her hands reached down, taking him up in her grasp once more. She adjusted their position, aligning his cock so that it slid against the slick folds of her entrance. After the display of bloodshed that had poured from the throats of her followers in her name, she was slick to the touch, her body desperate to be plundered. She could feel the pulsing in her groin, growing hungrier by the second. It was exciting and frustrating all at once. She wanted to plunge down on the bandit, impale herself until she was brimming with his length. But she knew she had to be patient with someone of Meat’s size, or she’d be sore for days after. 

So she ground herself against the man, rode that teasing edge until her yearning was boiling inside her. Muffled little sounds escaped between her tightly closed lips, drawn out into whines. Her siren marks were practically on fire now, burning brightly under the moonlight. At last she could take the creeping torture no longer, and bore down against the head of the bandit’s cock with all her weight. It sunk in slowly, parting her like the petals of a flower, her initial moan carrying up into the night. Meat let out a grunt of his own, shifting his hips, holding her tight so he could arch himself upward. His girth was almost too much, a slight tremor of discomfort snaking up her spine. It only aided the pleasure she took from the sensation, making her shiver.

Tyreen bore down harder, feeling her partner’s length slip in even further. Her legs quivered with the sensation, gravity making him feel deeper inside her than he was. Again, he rolled his hips, wrangling those sweet twinges of ecstasy from her body. She nuzzled into his neck, smelling sweat, and blood, and something distinctly Pandoran, drunk on all the feelings coursing through her at the moment.

They began to move in earnest, finding a rhythm opposite each other. All the while Tyreen was aware of the COV’s eyes on her; the _cameras’_ eyes on her. She cared about neither, her focus solely on the bandit currently fucking her brains out. Together they danced, each downward thrust of Tyreen’s body striking places of gratification deep, deep inside her, each upward thrust of Meat’s body jarring her base instincts. Eventually he was all the way inside her, the root of him grinding hard against her clit, the blood on both their bodies mingling.

“I’m so close,” she panted in his ear, her body laced with a thin sheen of sweat. “Just a little more. Don’t stop.”

To her relief, he didn’t. Instead his hips picked up the pace, hard staccato beat pounding in Tyreen’s ears as their bodies slapped together over and over again. Her hands went around his neck, clinging like a beast as her nails dug into the thick flesh of his back. 

And then it was happening.

Tyreen could feel it, that trickle of energy bleeding into her body. It always began slow, like a snake’s hunting crawl. But within a few moments it became the hunting _strike_ , all the alacrity making it surge into every fiber of her being like lightning. She was draining Meat Skimmer’s life force, his very essence being absorbed by her leech powers. And the man barely knew it was happening, his body still pistoning, his breathing ragged behind his mask. Even as she was being brought to screaming, thrashing orgasm, Tyreen kept drinking him in, the twining sensations of potent release mixed with life energy making her tremble from head to foot. She could barely keep her grip on him, nearly falling off in the wake of it all. 

It didn’t matter, anyway. Soon, there was barely anything to cling to left. The eridium husk she was currently attached to was almost formless, fragile. Still coming down from her high, she slipped from it the way someone waking from a dream would, collapsing on to her knees on the stone floor.

A rising cheer started up. First a few voices, and then many together, chanting her name, calling her the _God-Queen_ in a hypnotic mantra. Soon, the bandits and Psychos were tearing their clothes off, pairing off, some in threesomes and foursomes, joining in on the ritual. Hands gently pried Tyreen from her spot on the ground, lifted her up. Her head lolled, a murmur of nonsense passing from her lips. The hands roamed her body, tracing the patterns of blood on her skin, shifting between her legs, against her ass. Normally her followers wouldn’t dare touch her in such ways without permission, but they could sense tonight was special, and that she would not reprimand them for their actions.

Besides, they were only dooming themselves to Meat Skimmer’s fate.

XXX

Sometime later, much later, Troy was sitting on his bed enraptured by the scary movie currently playing on his Holo set. As he threw chips at the screen in frustration, the characters too stupid to deserve to live, he heard a door slam in the distance followed by a lot of loud crashing and then a plethora of curse words. He rolled his eyes. Hard. Tyreen must be back from her wild night of debauchery. He really hoped she didn’t stumble in here and start rattling off her exploits. This was one night he didn’t want to hear them.

Swinging his legs over the bed, he stood up. The movie was promptly shut off, the light of the holo dying out to leave him in the darkness of his room. He stretched his upper torso, bare muscles and sinews rippling and pulling taut. He’d taken off his costume some time ago, and was dressed only in a pair of old athletic shorts. Figuring it was safe to venture out now, since the noise had died down, he crept from his room. Hovering in the hallway like a deadly apparition, the air in their stronghold struck him as _too_ quiet. It enticed his curiosity about what exactly had gone down. Besides, he saw no imminent danger in returning to the area now, assessing the damages Tyreen had done. 

Upon entering, a low whistle escaped his lips. Dozens of eridium husks were scattered throughout the area, some frozen in what was so obviously the throes of passion. Troy tried not to think too hard about the origins of those particular husks, walking among them like the god that he was supposed to be surveying his lands, weaving around the bandits and Psychos still locked in positions of intimacy. Hovering in the air, a handful of cambots recorded the action, broadcasting it to who knew how many streams. They dipped and zoomed, focusing on the action, flitting away to turn their eye to another pair or cluster.

The air was redolent of sex and sweat. Troy had to admit, as he stopped to watch a particularly passionate couple, and as he thought about people tuning in to _watch_ this whole spectacle, that he was a little turned on. Nothing like some exhibitionism to get the blood pumping.

And since, undoubtedly, the viewers had already gotten their fair share of Tyreen’s antics….

The makeup he hadn’t bothered to wash off earlier stretching in a rictus, Troy scanned the remainder of the crowd. He chose his targets without much thought beyond the carnal; a male and a female bandit, who animatedly welcomed him into their arms with all the excitement of dogs at their master’s return. They helped strip him of his shorts, caressing him, peppering his chest with kisses, trailing up to his lips, capturing his mouth. He willingly opened it for them, drawing their tongues into his own one after the other, pulling them against his body to grind his hardening cock against them.

The night was still young, rife for debauched pleasures. Tyreen had had her fun, using her followers as food to slake her thirsts.

Now it was Troy’s turn to partake in the festivities.

And he would drink it all in under the blood moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I listened to a bunch of Lamb of God albums while writing this, especially _Ashes of the Wake_ and their self-titled album. They were probably a major influence on the tone.


End file.
